


It's Crude

by vaderina



Series: Prompt Fills [9]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mild Humour, Newt's doodles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina/pseuds/vaderina
Summary: Prompt fill: Based on a pic where a girl is expressionless when reading smut but uncontrolled when it's fluff - Newt has a crush on Percival Graves and he takes to writing poetry and prose about/sketching his wildest fantasies of the man. Graves catches him sometimes immersed in this activity and wonders about his fluctuating expressions. Does he ever see what's inside?





	It's Crude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gudetama (elementary)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementary/gifts).



There was a fine line between dedication and obsession. Percival was sure that he was dedicated to his job. Newt on the other hand seemed obsessed with his manuscript and the drawings for it. Whenever Percival saw the man it was only a matter of minutes before his notebook was out, pencil in hand and he was drawing away. After a while it became the usual, Percival would sit with his coffee and Newt would doodle away. He’d still chatter at times, hold conversations with people but if anyone approached him then Newt would turn so they couldn’t see inside his notebook.

“They’re very crude drawings.” Newt would mumble with a light blush to his cheeks. No matter how much he was reassured that crude sketches they would still like to see his skills it was to no avail and Newt guarded his notebook like a nundu her cubs. What struck Percival as odd was Newt’s expressions as he drew. Some days he was terribly serious about it, almost severe in his lack of facial movements.

“Turn your hand.” Newt said out of the blue, his own reaching out to turn Percival’s a little. “Good, now spread your fingers a little. Perfect.”

Amused and a little puzzled Percival did as asked and he watched Newt whose face was blank as he drew. Occasionally he would wet his lips or frown a little but nothing more.

“Pull your fingers together, as though you were making a shadow puppet with a beak.” The instructions were clear but no less puzzling. Newt seemed to realise how unorthodox his request was and he blushed. “Sorry. Please.”

Half an hour later Newt got up, gathered his coat in front of him and left without a backward glance. Percival just shook his head and continued with the report he was meant to be reading before the meeting at the end of the week.

Other days Newt would be squirming in his seat with glee. He’d draw with a ridiculous smile on his face and almost coo. It was oddly usually when things were relaxed around the department and Percival chalked it up to Newt feeling more are ease. Still, it was a little disconcerting when they were all sitting around quietly and Newt would let out a giggle that was obviously beyond his control. There’s be a blush sat high on Newt’s cheek and he’d glance up at Percival frequently.

It was one such day of Newt all but squirming in his and cooing while Percival sat with a cup of coffee and Dougal curled up in his lap doing his best impression of a house cat.

“Don’t move.” Newt urged as he smiled softly while he drew. The patronus that summoned Newt to the President’s office was unexpected and it had everyone glancing at him curiously. In his haste, Newt shot out of his chair and gathered his things. Only when he left did Percival and a few others notice the well guarded notebook lying face down half under the chair Newt had vacated. The aurors seized each other up and as one they launched for the notebook which floated gracefully through the air and out of their reach into Percival’s outstretched hand.

“Manners now.” He chided and glanced down at the open page. It was him. Sat in his chair with Dougal curled up in his lap. The picture Newt drew was endearing but why he felt the need to coo over it was beyond him. Still, it was a really good likeness of both him and Dougal. Perhaps when the man was back from the meeting Percival would ask him for it. The aurors gathered behind his chair to look and they all sighed happily at the drawing.

“What else has he drawn?” someone asked. Obligingly Percival turned the page. It was him again, this time bent over a report with a frown, quill tickling along his lips. There was a snicker from behind him. Tentatively he turned another page and almost dropped the notebook. It was a very detailed drawing of a hand wrapped around a cock. If that was bad enough the page opposite showed a hand slowly breaching a hole first with two fingers then with five. The more Percival looked at the picture the more it niggled. The hand looked familiar. There was a mole just under the wrist. He glanced at his own hand and sure enough there was that mole. Briefly he wondered whether the freckles on the visible parts of the butt cheeks were drawn at random or intimate knowledge.

The whistle from behind him brought Percival back to reality and he hastily flipped the page. If only he hadn’t. It was a picture of him sat up in bed, the sheets pooled around his waist to maintain a little modesty. Though the way the blanket seemed to lightly swell and curve around his crotch it left very little to the imagination. Cheeks burning Percival shut the notebook.

“He did say the drawings were crude.” he said and people around him laughed.

“We all thought he meant a different kind of crude boss, don’t worry. Who would have thought sweet, innocent Newt could sit there and draw such filth with a straight face? That last one? Your expression was from the ICW meeting when you looked ready to kill the Minister from France.”

“Yes. Quite. But how can he keep a straight face? Yet he smiles and giggles like a teenager with a crush when it’s something he finds endearing.”

“I think you just answered that question yourself sir. Teenager with a crush.”

Percival tucked the notebook under his arm and pushed his chair back. His aurors scattered from his path.

“Where you going Director?” one of them asked.

“To give the notebook back to its rightful owner before some nosy fool sees something they really shouldn’t.”

His subordinates nodded along.

“Oh, sir?” another one began tentatively. “The cleaning cupboard on level seven is never locked. There’s just enough room in there for two. In case the teenage crush develops beyond expectations.”

Percival didn’t deign to reply to that. He marched out of the department with purpose and pretended he didn’t hear the tittering and gossip as the door closed behind him. When he returned half an hour later he didn’t have to tell them that the cleaning cupboard was indeed just about big enough for two. His kiss swollen lips and tousled hair gave the game away.

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill - @ladyoftheshrimp


End file.
